


A Christmas Party, part 1

by fumiko6



Series: Pageantverse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Trans Character, Christmas Party, Depression, F/F, High School, Interactive Fiction, POV Second Person, Realistic, Slice of Life, Social Anxiety, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, at least one and possibly both of the main characters are self-inserts, chinese-american characters, very very loosely based on true stories, you can probably tell where this is going...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fumiko6/pseuds/fumiko6
Summary: Your name is Karen Zhao (officially Qiuyi Zhao), and you hate going to parties. Especially the ones thrown by your parents' Chinese friends.Based on an interactive fiction:https://red-autumn.itch.io/a-christmas-party.





	A Christmas Party, part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I picked a particular path through the interactive fiction so this has slightly different content, but it was mostly a linear story anyway.
> 
> For a different view of the characters and setting, see <https://red-autumn.itch.io/pageant>. This is a much longer and more game-like interactive fiction, but incomplete for now.
> 
> Time: Winter, 2014  
> Place: Massachussetts
> 
> Spoken dialogue is a mix of Mandarin and English. Text originally spoken in Mandarin will be in italics, like _this_.

Your name is Karen Zhao (officially Qiuyi Zhao), and you hate going to parties. Especially the ones thrown by your parents' Chinese friends.  
  
Well, hate is perhaps not the right word. Intensely dislike is more accurate. You usually stand in a corner by yourself while your parents tell other parents about how your 3.9 unweighted GPA will never be good enough to get into MIT and how you have zero leadership or social skills. At least the food is usually not bad.  
  
It's 4:30 PM, and the sun is already falling as your parents pack your 6-year-old brother Kevin and you into their gray Toyota Camry. This year the Christmas Eve party is hosted at Professor Song Chen's house, a thirty minute drive. You've heard your mom talk about Professor Chen as someone she's worked with before, but you've never met him. He's apparently a big shot at the university. And he has a child about your age. The drive is filled with the monotone voices of NPR that always put you to sleep. You think about your AP World and AP Chem homework; you always take your homework to these parties, not that you ever get much done.  
  
When you arrive, you help your parents carry their pot of soup up the icy driveway. It's a lamb soup, a specialty of Shaanxi province where your mother is from. Kevin rings the doorbell. The door swings open. You're greeted by a Chinese man smiling widely as he beckons your family inside.  
  
The house is big, much bigger than your parents' apartment, and permeated with warmth and gregarious Chinese voices.  
  
" _Ai-you, Ai-you, it's too heavy, I'll help you carry this,_ " Professor Chen's wife yells, and she takes the pot from your hands. Professor Chen takes your coat and hangs it up. " _She doesn't need help, she can do it herself,_ " mom says out of obligation. You remain silent.  
  
" _Sorry there aren't many children your age here,_ " Professor Chen says. " _My son is in his room. He's also a junior. Maybe you can play with him._ "

He takes you upstairs and knocks on a nondescript door. " _\---, open the door,_ " he says. You hear the shuffling of feet and a click of the doorknob. The person that emerges is about your height, with unruly shoulder-length hair, wearing a t-shirt and pajamas.

" _You couldn't wear some better clothes?_ ", Professor Chen says. " _We have guests over. You should present yourself better. This is Qiuyi-jiejie. You should take care of her._ "

"Uh, come in," he says.  
  
" _Take care of her well,_ " Professor Chen says before leaving. You enter the room.

"So." He stares at you for a second before turning around and sitting back at his chair, fiddling with his computer. "Sorry for the mess. Sit down anywhere."  
  
You sit down on the carpet. A long moment of silence passes between the two of you, punctuated only by the tapping of the keyboard.  
  
"You can do your homework or whatever here," he says, breaking the silence.

"Oh. Um, thanks."

"What is it?", he replies without turning.  
  
"Oh, AP World."  
  
"That's cool. I'm taking AP Euro right now. My school doesn't have AP World."  
  
You unzip your backpack and take out your textbook. The assignment is just to read the relevant chapters of the textbook and answer a few basic questions on them. Simple enough; maybe you'll get something done after all.  
  
"Hey, what other classes are you taking?", he asks after a few minutes, breaking your focus.  
  
"Um, AP Chem, Calc BC, AP World, AP Lit, AP Spanish, and, uh, gym."  
  
"That's not bad. No music or art?"  
  
"Um, well, I do play the _erhu_. Not as a class, but, like, as an activity."  
  
He laughs a single laugh. "That seems like the most Asian thing I've ever heard."  
  
"I mean, yeah, I guess," you say. He remains silent. You have a habit of killing off every conversation you're ever in. As you look at the textbook again your mind drifts.  
  
You try to focus on the homework, but you can't. You think about _things_ , but mostly about how awkward and uncomfortable the current moment is. You feel as if you should say something to break the silence because it's awkward but you don't know if it's actually a good idea and maybe he really wants to be doing whatever his computer thing is and probably doesn't even want you to be here and honestly you don't even want to be here and you're all only here because of the machinations of your parents and-  
  
"Karen, ---, _food is ready!_ ", mom shouts. You're glad to be out of there.  
  
The two of you head downstairs, following the fragrances of steamed rice and stir fries. Some of the younger children have already started filling their plates. Your enforced companion fills his plate first, and then starts to head upstairs before his father calls after him.  
  
"- _\--, come eat with us down here._ " He turns around with a sigh and heads to the living room sofas. You fill your plate and sit next to him.

" _Qiuyi, I heard your studies are very good,_ " Professor Chen says. " _Your parents say that you like to study biology. Would you like to come and work for me?_ " He uses the same voice on you that he uses on the five year-olds.  
  
"Um, _I don't know?_ "  
  
" _Haha. It'll be good on your college applications._ "  
  
" _Oh._ "  
  
And it goes on and on. The conversations continue. --- is accosted by another parent asking about his college application plans. Someone asks you about why you're entering a beauty pageant, because apparently it's a low-tier extracurricular. " _But for Chinese kids it's different because not many Chinese kids do this,_ " mom argues. " _And she doesn't have other specialties._ "  
  
As the adults shuffle about and you get seconds, you overhear more. You overhear your parents and the Chens talk about you. Actually just your mom and his mom. " _Your daughter works so hard!_ " " _Aiya, not really._ " " _Does she have a boyfriend?_ " " _No, no, of course not. She's a bookworm, of course she doesn't. Does your son have a girlfriend?_ " Laughter. " _I don't know. I guess not. He doesn't like to talk either._ " Now they're speaking in hushed tones, but you're good at eavesdropping. " _Ai, have you ever thought that your daughter might be homosexual?_ " " _Of course not! She can't be!_ " " _Our son might be gay._ " " _What? Really?_ " " _He always likes to try and look like a girl, likes to look at the women's section in stores._ " " _Really!_ "  
  
You realize that --- is gone, already upstairs.

* * *

 

"They were talking about you downstairs," you say once you're in his room again.  
  
"What did they say?" He eats in front of his laptop, not looking in your direction.  
  
You don't know what to do. Do you tell him what they said? What if it's true? What if it's not true? What if he'll hate you forever for either assuming that he's gay or nosing about his personal life? You close your eyes.  
  
"Um, I think... Ithinkyourmomsaidthatyoumightbegayorsomethinglikethat."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Oh, um, I just thought you might want to know. Or something like that."  
  
"Why do you care, though?"  
  
You take a deep breath. It's going to be okay.  
  
"Um, it's because I'm um, like girls, and, um..."  
  
He turns to you and makes a barely perceptible smile. You turn away.  
  
"Do they know?"  
  
"No... at least I don't think so... and, um, what about you? I mean was your mom right?"

He turns towards the floor, away from you, and draws a deep breath.  
  
"Well, I'm pretty sure I, uh, like both boys and girls. Or people regardless of gender, I don't know. But like um,..." He pauses and draws another breath. "God, this is going to sound so dumb but, I'm, like, I'm actually a girl. I'm, um, trans."  
  
He-no, she (?), buries her face in her hands, and coughs. "Look, I'll show you," she says, her voice becoming higher. She coughs again, and enters the closet.  
  
"Wait, um, you don't have to..."  
  
"But I want to." Her voice is muffled by the closet door. "God, I've spent so much fucking time on this shit I have to... God, I'm so fucking ridiculous right now..."  
  
There's shuffling from the closet. From downstairs come the sounds of obedient children playing the piano. Some of the adults are singing now.  
  
"Oh yeah, by the way, my name's Emily. Other trans girls all pick fucking unique names but I just pick a fucking generic name like Emily."

"It's okay..."  
  
"No, it's not," she says. "Anyway I'm almost done. Here. How do I look."  
  
She emerges from the closet looking way more like a girl than you ever have, wearing a black off-the-shoulder sweater with a purple skirt. She looks... pretty? cute? beautiful? brave?  
  
"Sorry I couldn't put on makeup. I fucking hate my facial structure but..." She plays with her messy hair, pushing it to one side and twirling the ends.  
  
"Um,..., you look nice?"  
  
"Like, but, would I pass? I mean, would people see me as a girl if I just walked outside?"  
  
"Uh, probably... maybe? But, like, walking outside right now might not be the best idea."  
  
She smiles, laughing softly as she covers her mouth. It's the first time she's seemed happy since you saw her. "Thanks. I try, like, a lot."  
  
You stay quiet, as you have exactly zero thoughts as to how to approach a situation like this one.  
  
"Um, why are you staring at me?", Emily asks.  
  
"Oh. Sorry," you say, and you look away.  
  
Emily sits on the bed, not looking at you. You feel awkward, a bit more than usual. Maybe you should say something to break the tension.

"Um, Emily?"  
  
She looks at you and smiles. "Can you, like, keep on saying that?"  
  
"Saying what?"  
  
"My name. Actually, nevermind. It's, uh, sort of a big deal but also sort of not."  
  
"Uh, hi, Emily." As you say that, she smiles again.  
  
"Wait, stop," Emily says.  
  
You hear footsteps on the stairs.  
  
"Oh, shit. I have to go change," Emily says, but the door already opens.  
  
" _\---, how many times have we told you to not do this? Chen Song, come up here!_ "  
  
Emily stays still, looking away from the door.  
  
You look away, ignoring her mother, trying to look as small as possible. She ducks out of the doorway for a moment. And soon Professor Chen arrives.  
  
" _\---, you did this again_ ," Professor Chen says. " _You're already a man. You shouldn't be doing this anymore._ "  
  
" _Qiuyi, we're sorry,_ " he says to you. " _Go downstairs._ "  
  
You look away from them, pretend you aren't there, pretend you aren't hearing anything. You act dumbfounded, you disappear, and it works. You block out the yelling, close off your mind. You don't hear the shouts. You close your eyes until her parents are out of sight.  
  
You're a fucking coward.

* * *

  
"Time to drink bleach," Emily says, her voice flat. She stands up and starts to walk towards the door.  
  
"Wait! Um, please don't?"  
  
"Okay. I was just kidding." She sighs. "Fuck. What do I do now." She paces about the room, still wearing her girl clothes.  
  
"Sorry..."  
  
"What the fuck are you sorry for? If you weren't here they would have been way worse."  
  
Emily sighs before she ducks back into the closet, and soon emerges in her pajamas again. You hear voices calling for you from downstairs.  
  
"Karen, _come down!_ ", your mother shouts. " _We're going to leave now!_ "  
  
"Okay, _wait a little bit!_ ", you reply.  
  
You pack your things and get ready to leave. It's far too early. Perhaps Emily's parents communicated something about the incident to your parents.  
  
"Um, thanks," Emily says, still in her high voice.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Just, for being here, I guess."  
  
"But I didn't even do anything."  
  
"Like I said, you saved me from something way worse." Emily stands up and walks towards your vicinity. "God, just don't talk about this to anyone."  
  
"Um, sure..." You look at her eyes for a moment before turning away. She stands at almost exactly your height.  
  
Somehow this feels like the time for a hug.  
  
You're not habituated to physical contact. Your heart races as you walk next to her and put your arms around her shoulders. She almost jolts backward at first, but she reciprocates, wrapping her arms around you. It's a few moments before you let go.  
  
"Uh, thanks," Emily says. " And like, can I just, like, talk to you sometime? In the future?"  
  
"Sorry, I'm horrible at keeping in touch..." You've never been able to initiate conversations. You might have never initiated a single conversation in your entire life that wasn't absolutely necessary. It's just one of your copious flaws.  
  
Emily sighs. "Fine. If you don't talk to me I'll talk to you whenever I feel like it, okay?"

"Sure, that's okay..." The two of you exchange phone numbers. You're not good at bringing up the courage to actually _contact_ people via any method, but perhaps Emily will be.

And that's the last you see of her today. With a wave you leave her to head downstairs. You feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes, which you try to suppress. Successfully. When you reach your parents your facial expression is back to normal. They don't ask you what's wrong. Nor do they tell you about what happened with Emily Chen and her parents. Instead they quickly whisk you and your brother into the car. Your brother is already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If anyone's interested (or heck even if no one is) I'll upload part 2 soon, and perhaps other Karen/Emily stories too.


End file.
